The Vixen Trials

He Won't Fight Back

*Updated on 7/9/19 to include the Dakkoul section.

Dakkoul

When he heard that he wasn't invited to the picnic, Lord Rustavan narrowed his eyes at Dakkoul and hissed, "You should have choked that insufferable boy. Telling me I can't accompany my own niece!"

Baba had soothed him down. "It is not the way of the Fox to forgive or forget, but to overlook until it is time to remember."

  "Wise is the way of the Fox," Dakkoul supplied.

"We will overlook this insult for now," she continued. "The Hattavah will keep Keilah safe and an intimate setting will be to her favour. All we need is for her entry to be accepted. Then he can not deny you the role of Protector and we will be back at the Palace in our rightful place."

"Protector," said Lord Rustavan rolling the word around in his mouth. "Me with a sword, facing that kit of a Prince. You astonish me with the cleverness of your plans."

Baba had roared with laughter.

Dakkoul stared at the lurid painting on the wall while his mind churned. Something was being plotted, but was it only against the Prince or Keilah too?

Malek

Malek jumped to attention as the Hattavah stalked out of Lord Rustavan's chamber and hissed, "Your turn. Remember what to say."

He suppressed a derisive sound with difficulty. As if he could forget. As soon as Pipsqueak had left them, all he'd had was the Hattavah's instructions and no promise of a blanket: don't tell Lord Rustavan the truth about where Pipsqueak went; don't tell him I swore fealty to the Prince; don't tell him I told the Prince the truth of what happened to his father; don't mention how the Prince threatened me.

Malek swaggered past the Hattavah and into the brutal luxury of Lord Rustavan's enormous room. Fur skins of all types with their heads and teeth still attached lay scattered across the floor, several bronze urns sat on the mantlepiece over the fire, one with blood oozing down the rim, and on the far wall was a large painting of a blonde-haired, much younger Lord Rustavan gleefully torturing his enemies. In the foremost corner sat a squat man wearing the colorful robes of an entertainer and humming a grating two-note song.

Lord Rustavan's main attendant, Coleus, came scuttling up to him, his hands fluttering at his sides, an unnatural thinness to his face and a strange blankness in his eyes. With a nervous movement Coleus motioned Malek towards Lord Rustavan who was lounging on a couch in front of the blazing fire.

Malek snapped into a bow. Lord Rustavan allowed the silence to stretch until Malek's back ached and the hairs on his neck prickled.

"You can stand. Tell me what did he do to you today?"

Malek raised his head, relieved by the familiar question, the lie ready on his tongue. "Made me eat peppered fire snake, until I threw up. Then he jeered at me and made me eat some more until I threw up again and again. My tongue still burns." He added a few choice descriptors of the Hattavah for good measure.

An expression of mock sympathy appeared on Lord Rustavan's distinguished face. "I'm sorry you are suffering now, but rest assured, if you prove to be trustworthy you will get your revenge." He clapped his hands. "In the meantime I have a treat for you."

Malek made his eyes light up and his lips brim with thankfulness even as his gut squirmed. Why the delay before questioning him?

Lord Rustavan motioned Malek over to a raised stone platform near to the entertainer and ordered all of the lamps extinguished so that only the fire light remained.